Once
by Laurielove
Summary: It is a few weeks before her wedding, but Victoria realises that before she can marry, she has unfinished business with the one man who has made her the woman she is. Lord Melbourne/Victoria. 3 chapters of Vicbourne angsty, steamy goodness. Putting in the bits that should be there. Mature readers only, please. All for the love of the delicious Lord M.
1. Chapter 1

**More Vicbourne indulgence, this time with added smut. My adoration of Lord Melbourne as played by Rufus Sewell continues and so this happened. I wouldn't call it a slow burn, but it's certainly a 'wait until the next chapter' burn. The best kind. ;-) And then I'd advise not reading if you're offended by the thought of past members of the royal family having sex with their Prime Ministers. And, yeah, it's historically inaccurate but yada yada yada. We need this, so I'm giving it to you. And I don't exactly rewrite history, I just add some extra fun bits.**

 **Thanks to the amazing Daisy Goodwin for writing these characters in such an inspirational way, to Jenna Coleman and Rufus Sewell for being perfectly perfect, and to Mammoth Screen for fuelling my fantasy.**

 **Enjoy.**

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It was with an intoxicating feeling of bewildered certainty that Victoria found herself, three weeks before her marriage, standing before the doors of Brocket Hall one evening at ten o'clock.

Once she had settled on her extraordinary course of action, she had not once changed her mind, but now that she was here, the momentousness of the occasion made her reel, not so much with doubt but excitement.

She stood for a moment, quite still, as the noise of the carriage faded down the driveway, and stared up at the house. It was mostly dark but one or two rooms were still lit, and that was enough.

The carriage was Lady Portman's. Her most discreet and understanding Lady had allowed Victoria the use of her carriage and, masked behind a veil and speaking not a word, the young Queen had been conveyed to Brocket Hall, the country residence of her Prime Minister.

She mounted the steps to the door and rang. She heard her own heart thumping as loudly as the bell rang within and she forced herself to settle. Nothing would deter her now.

A footman answered and reacted with surprise but not recognition. She supposed it was unusual to have a lady calling at this time of night, but it was clear he could not see what lady.

'Good evening,' she said, and then hesitated, although she had rehearsed this in her mind time and time again. Summoning her resolve, she continued, 'Lord Melbourne is expecting me.' He was not, but she wished to be brought to him with no questions.

'Your name, Madam?'

'I do not wish to be announced. Please bring me to him. I assure you he will not refuse me.'

'Madam …'

She sighed in frustration. 'It is cold. The Prime Minister will not be pleased to hear you have allowed a lady to freeze on his doorstep. My brother serves with him and will convey his displeasure if you do not allow me in now.'

The footman eyed her with suspicion, clearly reluctant, but Victoria's authoritative tone was one men rarely questioned – even those who doubted her morals and profession, she guessed – even when disguised, and, pursing his lips, the man at last opened the door and stepped aside for her.

She swept through into the hallway. The footman took her cloak but she kept her bonnet and veil on. 'Thank you, that will be all. Through there?' She indicated the one room from which light emerged. The man nodded then retreated with her cloak.

Victoria stood tall and, once certain the footman was gone, removed her bonnet and veil. Then, with a deep breath to steady herself, she walked into the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

He was sitting at his desk, his back turned, intensely focused on some papers. He had not noticed her. Even the sound of the door closing did not disturb his concentration.

Victoria studied him for a while, and that feeling of intense contentment returned. This man brought her calmness like nobody else. Calmness of mind, certainly, that whatever was to be was the right way. But under it, her body also awakened. Her skin tingled in that way it had when she looked upon his tall form, her belly started that familiar little dance as she studied his broad back and thick hair. She could only admit that she had also felt those things with Albert recently, but never had that diminished her ferocious devotion and response to this man.

The scene was very similar to that time she had called on him at Dover House. He was in a similar state of dress now, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, waistcoat unbuttoned. She indulged herself with the memory for a moment but forced it away when remembering what she was now here for. The more she looked at the man before her, the more certain she became.

She gave a cough.

Melbourne turned and, just as he had that other time, leapt from his chair in surprise. 'Your Majesty!'

She smiled across at him apologetically. 'Forgive me, Lord M, for the unexpected intrusion. Your footman let me in unannounced as I did not wish to cause a disturbance.'

'What is the matter, Ma'am? A crisis? Has somebody died?'

'No … no, nothing like that.'

He took a single pace forward then seemed to think better of it. Instead he furrowed his brows in query. 'Why then, Ma'am, are you here?'

She caught her breath before stating, 'I have a matter to discuss with you.'

He blinked once in bewilderment. 'Now?'

'Yes. It is not a crisis … but most urgent nonetheless.'

'I see. It must be, I suppose, if you deem it necessary to visit me here … at this hour.' His words came slowly as he tried to fathom her unexpected appearance. He stood, studying her curiously, waiting for her to speak, but her mind was blank. She was halted by the reminder of how perfectly wonderful he was.

Melbourne glanced around rapidly, looking beyond her as if he would find answers in his own drawing room, before his mouth tensed in realisation. 'Are you … alone, Ma'am?'

She hesitated. 'Yes. I am.'

He let the information sink in then clasped his hands before him in that way he had, as if awaiting her next interjection but at the same time forestalling it. 'I see.' There was a moment's silence before he continued. 'This is becoming something of a habit, Ma'am.'

'What is?'

'Calling on me unannounced … and alone.'

'And, of course, incognito,' she added with a hint of tease, showing him the bonnet and veil before placing it on a table close by.

'Ah, yes.'

She stood, unsure for once how to proceed. He was simply standing watching her as he normally did, his eyes knowing and wise, the hinted-at smile playing on his lips.

She drew in a breath. 'You must be wondering why exactly I am here.'

'Indeed. But I trust you will tell me when you see fit.'

'You are not cross with me?'

His brows knitted slightly but he still eyed her levelly. 'Cross with you, Ma'am?'

'I have sent the carriage away.'

His head lifted and she heard the surprised intake of breath which he could not entirely suppress. 'Sent it away?'

'Yes. It was Lady Portman's. Nobody knows I have left the palace.'

His eyes darted to the side then back to her, the only sign of his mind's workings. 'Except Lady Portman, presumably?'

'Yes … only her.'

His brows did that little quizzical furrow again. Melbourne dropped his head and pursed his lips. 'Your partner in crime …'

'Why do you say that?'

'Emma has colluded in your mischief before.' He allowed himself a slight smirk.

'Mischief?' She liked hearing him describe her this way. 'Do you think me mischievous, Lord M?'

'At times … Your Majesty.'

'I think you like my mischief.'

His smirk deepened. 'And does Emma know where exactly you have come?'

'No, but she will cover for me … as is necessary.'

'I see.' His face lost its humour for a moment but then he seemed to remember himself and glanced down at his apparel. 'I must apologise for my state of dress, Ma'am. I was considering retiring for the night.'

She studied him. He was without coat or cravat. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and his waistcoat hung open. She tried not to stare at the flash of skin at his chest but, at the same time, she saw no reason why she should not.

'And what else would you normally do before retiring?'

He looked across at her curiously, his mind clearly still grappling with the strange situation they found themselves in. Then he held his hands out to the sides and raised his eyebrows in self-query. 'Perhaps … have another brandy.'

'You should do so then.'

The corner of his mouth lifted. 'And why not?'

In the candlelight his eyes shone like never before and that ache inside her grew almost unbearable. He turned suddenly and paced to a side table on which stood a decanter and some glasses. He poured himself a considerable amount of brandy before turning to look back at her. 'I am forgetting my manners. Would you care for some, Ma'am?'

She hated brandy. 'Yes, perhaps a little.'

He barely hesitated in reaching for another glass. He poured slightly more than what she would consider a little. Melbourne turned and held the glass out to her. She took it boldly. He eyed her steadily before raising the glass to her.

'To your forthcoming marriage, Ma'am, and your great happiness.'

'Happiness … I will most certainly drink to that.' In her heightened state she drank in rather more than she bargained for and it caught in her throat, causing her to cough loudly.

Melbourne approached and asked in concern, 'Are you alright, Ma'am?'

She laughed up at him through her coughs. 'Yes … yes, I … I will be well in a moment.'

He let his smirk turn into a chuckle and put a hand on her shoulder to help her. That seemed to stop her coughing immediately. He did not remove his hand and she grew acutely aware of the warmth and pressure of each of his fingers resting on her.

Victoria gave a sudden involuntary shiver due to the rush of feeling coursing through her and dropped her head in embarrassment.

'Are you cold, Ma'am?'

'No. Not cold.'

Their eyes met again. His face exuded such calm intelligence she could look nowhere but at him. He said gently, 'Come … sit down.'

He guided her to a chaise and she lowered herself onto it. He sat himself on the other end and took a considerable drink of brandy. She took another sip, this time managing not to splutter.

'The preparations for my wedding are moving very fast. The music has been selected and the order of service finalised. It will be a most splendid occasion.'

'I do not doubt it, Ma'am.'

'I write to Albert every day.'

She waited for him to respond and eyed him out of the corner of her eye. No response was forthcoming.

'I miss him terribly. I love him terribly,' she continued.

There was another silence. It told her all she needed. What a curious thing it was, jealousy, and one that now gave her boldness. In light of her intentions, his discomfort could be used wisely and carefully.

At length he spoke, his voice as even and measured as ever. 'I am pleased to hear it, Ma'am, although this is not a surprise to me.'

'No?'

'I have seen you together. Your affection for each other is undeniable.'

'Yes, he loves me too, very much.' She hated what she was doing, but at the same time derived a perverse pleasure from it, as what she was to do next would be all the more worthwhile.

His face flickered briefly. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

'Do you think that is enough?'

'Love? For most, yes. And for you … I hope so above all else.' He looked at her so intensely she wondered if she would pass out. How could she ever neglect this man and her feelings for him, feelings which endured no matter what?

'Lord M …' she murmured, almost unheard.

'Yes, Ma'am?'

'You have not asked me properly why I am here.'

'No.'

'Do you not wish to know?'

His eyes cast over her face before lingering on her mouth, watching for the answer to emerge. 'Of course.'

'You see … I have been thinking...'

'I am glad to hear it, Ma'am.'

'With Albert away, despite missing him, it has given me a sense of what matters, of what must be treasured.'

He was silent but looked at her with eyes which were both full of encouragement and remorse. He waited for her to continue.

'I have felt time slipping from me recently, the future rushing headlong towards me.'

'That is perhaps how it should be, Ma'am.'

'I know … but I have things in my past which I feel will help with my future … and the future of others. When one has such extraordinary events to anticipate, one thinks hard on it all - why we marry, why we love … _how_ we love.'

'And what conclusions have you come to, Ma'am?'

'I have realised that I love very deeply.'

'The Prince is a very fortunate man.'

'Yes. I love him deeply.'

He fell silent again momentarily and his eyes grew dimmer, and now she hated seeing it. 'Your Majesty … I am not sure why you are telling me –'

'But he is not the only one,' she interrupted abruptly.

He looked back at her but said nothing.

'William … I have found that even though the strength of my feelings for Albert is very great – and I have no regret in admitting that to you – I find that I cannot forget the strength of my feelings … for you.'

He tore his eyes from her and sat staring straight ahead, tension capturing him.

'I have found that … it is possible to love two men,' she whispered.

Melbourne stood up suddenly and stared anywhere but at her. His next words were insistent. 'You really must leave, Ma'am.'

'William … I ask you … do you not think one can love two people?'

He turned his head a little in her direction but could not look directly at her. 'I do … but one cannot marry two people.'

'Is marriage essential for love?'

'If love is to survive and thrive within our society as it is, yes.'

'But … I am not yet married and so … love can as yet be explored without that constraint.'

He took a pace away and ran his fingers through his hair then turned back abruptly and said with undisguised sharpness, 'Your Majesty … I am not sure I understand why exactly you are here.'

She stood quickly and stepped towards him. 'But you do, William. Why else would I come to you at night alone? I do not do these things lightly.'

His eyes closed tight in agonised torment. 'Are you … suggesting …? Are you thinking …?'

'Before I marry him, before I start down that path, I need to know. I cannot open that book until I have closed this one. I _want_ to know.'

He frowned as the reality of her intentions sank in. 'Want to know … what?'

'What could have been.'

His bottom lip quivered for an instant before he set it straight again. 'But it could _not_ have been. I told you that time you came here before, on the avenue. I told you why.'

She spoke plainly. 'You were lying to me. You know it, as do I. You were not mated for life. Your marriage was not a happy one, you told me yourself, and I know you well enough to know that you would not have forced yourself into a lifetime of misery for someone who behaved so irrationally, who betrayed you, but then who ultimately freed you from commitment through her death.'

His face creased in sorrow and her words hung heavy around them for some time. A carriage clock chimed the quarter hour.

'Yes … you are right,' he eventually conceded, softly but honestly. 'But … I had to say that, do you not see? I had to …'

'To what?'

He stared into her, his eyes dull with pain. 'I had to push you away.'

'And you succeeded.' She stepped closer into him, so close they were nearly touching, and looked up openly at him. 'You broke my heart. But more than that…'

'What?'

'I believe you broke your own heart too.' She stepped closer, her eyes searching out his truth. 'And I am here to mend it.'

He stared at her open face as it gazed up at him and he murmured, 'Victoria.'

'Call me by my name again,' she whispered.

'Victoria … this cannot be.'

'But it can. Some things _must_ be, this is one. Never have I trusted another, never have I felt such communion and comfort with another, not even Albert. My life with him will be wondrous and full of love, and you know that, but I have become the person I am for him due to what _you_ have given me. You have made me the woman I am … and you must now complete that.'

'Please … Ma'am …' He was wrestling with the gravest demons. 'I ask you to leave.'

'I will not.'

He closed his eyes but did not move away from her. 'I cannot do this. I cannot do this to you.'

'By denying me, by denying yourself, you are destroying us both.'

'Please, Victoria, stop this.'

'I love you still and I want you still … and I believe you feel the same. For this one night, let us be that for each other.'

She placed her tiny hands on his shirt, just inside the waistcoat, and felt the swell of his chest under her fingertips. It enthralled her. Her breath came faster in time with his. She raised her eyes to his again and he locked into her. And he began to lower his head to hers, slowly, so slowly she thought she would die; he drew closer, his eyes darting between her eyes and her lips.

But then, as if the weight of mortality pressed down on him, he threw his head back, his neck strained, and he took a step backwards. 'I will not do this to you! I hope that above all else I remain a gentleman!'

She was not deterred. 'Then be that gentleman and give me what I – what _we_ – desire above all else!'

He turned to her with heated passion and said indignantly, 'You understand so little!'

'No! I understand too much, perhaps. I understand that if we do not take this moment now and make it ours, William, then we will both regret it for the rest of our lives.'

He shook his head and let out a ruefully pained laugh. 'I am in awe of your emotional certainty.'

'Use it! Take it.' She rushed over to him and took his hands in hers. 'Do you not feel what I feel and want what I want? I have sat beside you for so long now, my desire almost beyond my control. I never knew it could be like that, I never knew that life could be so vivid and glorious.'

'You feel that with your fiancé, you have told me and I have seen it. Soon you will have that with your husband.'

She noticed he could not say Albert's name and it touched her beyond anything. 'Yes, I do not deny that … but I am not with Albert now. I am with you. I have chosen tonight to be with you, William.'

'No.'

She was becoming desperate. She had come thus far, she could not stop now. She searched his face. 'Why do this to yourself? Do you not desire me?'

'What?' he said, his face contorting.

'Perhaps you do not, perhaps you do not feel it as I do.'

And he took hold of her suddenly by the arms and pulled her into him. Instantly the breath was knocked from her, partly through the force of their bodies colliding, partly through the heated longing that struck them both. He held her hard around the waist, tightly against him.

'You doubt that? Do you not feel that? Do you not feel my desire for you?'

She nodded. Something was pressing hard against her waist, something that she knew was not his fob watch.

He continued, his smooth, measured voice more heated, deeper than she had ever heard it. 'You speak of sitting beside me … Do you know how often I have forced back my longings, averted my eyes for fear I would do something rash if I looked on your beauty for too long, suppressed my yearnings, retired to my house and dreamt, imagined … my nights consumed with fevered dreams and fantasies.'

'I am not a fantasy, William. I am here.'

Again, his beautiful eyes fixed on her face and she was sure he would kiss her. She yearned for it and the hardness of him only spurred her on. She lifted her head to his, willing him to her. But then, with supreme restraint, he tore his head up and pushed back from her.

'I will do what is right!' he practically roared.

Her heart plummeted in agonised disappointment. 'Yes! You will! This _is_ right. It is right for me, and what is more, it is right for you. William, why deny yourself happiness? This is _my_ decision, _my_ intent. Your conscience is clear. You have not manipulated or taken advantage of me at any turn. I have come to you because I want this moment, this one moment, to carry with me forever more, and for you to carry with you. I will marry Albert and I will love him and we will grow old together, but I want something to hold onto, to remember, and for you to have the same. I want you and I love you and I will never stop loving you. Let me show you that for this one night.'

'But there are obstacles, obstacles which are insurmountable.' He grappled with order, pacing around and wringing his hands. His loss of decorum was utterly beguiling. She had never seen him like this and it only made her adore him even more.

'Such as?'

He threw an arm out in desperation. 'Have you considered the possible consequences? What if you become with child?'

'I am no fool. My body's inconveniences are predictable and regular. My course finished only two days ago. I understand this to be the right time to avoid such things, am I not right?'

He closed his eyes at her intimate account of the situation.

'Well?' she pressed.

He muttered, his cheeks pink, 'Yes, that is … that is correct. But … you are so young. So perfect.' He looked at her in remorse. 'I am afraid to break that.'

'You are the only one who should.'

Melbourne shook his head. 'I will damn us both to hell.'

Stinging tears assaulted her. 'No, William. Hell is _not_ having you. Hell is never knowing what could have been.'

He clenched his fists and hurled out his anguish. 'This is insane! It is madness! You are the Queen, I am your Prime Minister! You are to be married to a man who is right and good and proper for you, a man who I know you love! That man is not me!

'I love you too! Let me show you before it truly becomes too late!'

He was pacing, trying to block out her continued pleas. His words came fast and loud, as if he were convincing himself as much as her. 'You must leave. I shall send for my carriage and you will return to the palace now. We will say that there was a constitutional issue that was upsetting you so you came out to seek my counsel and now-'

'Stop! Stop tormenting yourself and me!'

He stood, his eyes wild, his agony clear, but again he repeated his refusal. 'You will go, Victoria! You will leave now. I cannot and will not do this to you!'

She had lost the fight. She stared at him a final time, tears pouring from her eyes, her breath coming in desperate heaves. She had done all she could and it had destroyed her. She spoke through her sobs. 'Then … you consign us both to a future of regret and remorse. I would not have that. I would not wish it on either of us. I would give myself to you for this night wholly and willingly before I commit myself to another. I desire you and you desire me, I know it. I believe you love me and I know I love you. I will always love you. But … you have made your decision, I see that.' She gave him one last look, her blue eyes locked into the knowing depth of his, and she saw the torment seared into them. 'Goodbye, Lord Melbourne. I wish you every happiness in your future, but I hold out little hope for it.'

Her limbs aching with regret, she turned and walked towards the door.

He reached her before she could grasp the handle. With sudden, long strides, he was at her. He took hold of her arm and pulled her around so that she landed against him with an exhaled cry of shock and wonder. His hands gripped her hard, not allowing her any escape, but she did not seek it. Immediately, she melted into him, immediately their bodies worked for each other, immediately she curled her arms around his neck and clung to him. He dropped his head and his lips crashed onto hers.

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 **It's about to get very, very hot at Brocket Hall. Hold on. Any thoughts, as ever, very happily received. LL x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Continuing where we left off ... Love this man so much.**

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William held her face, turning it up to him and kissing her so powerfully she took a staggering step back. Victoria let herself be held by him. She wondered if she had left the ground, if she were flying. Her mind reeled, her belly writhed with sensation. This was all. He was all.

His kiss felt unending, as if he would die if he stopped. It had been modest at first, closed mouthed, but soon his lips moved against hers in a way that made her open for him. They breathed through each other, tasted and felt each other. It was new and extraordinary and she wanted to learn it all, but it was as if she knew exactly what to do, for she had imagined and wanted this from the first moment he strode into the room on the morning of the King's death.

William seemed unable to let her go, but at length, to grant them a moment's breath, he drew back, only to kiss her hair and her face.

'Yes … yes, yes, yes,' she murmured over and over again.

And then he was back to her mouth and she was open and ready for him. She felt something darting, testing, and realised with only modest surprise that it was his tongue. His bold wickedness thrilled her. Had she not wanted this? To know the man beyond the mask of protocol? She met his tongue with her own and let the lines of her body fit along his. His right hand clasped her head to him, the other ran down her back, each finger igniting a response.

'I cannot stop this now,' he slurred through consuming kisses.

She raised her head, offering her slender neck to his searching lips and being rewarded. 'Then do not stop.'

And then she was indeed lifted off her feet. William had picked her up. She curled her arms around his neck and let herself be taken by him. But even as he walked his mouth sought hers. They kissed as he bore her out of the room and along corridors. They kissed as he bore her up the staircase. He carried her swiftly along and, when he reached a door, he still did not relinquish his hold on her but kicked it open brusquely.

Once inside the room he at last lowered her to the floor and stood slightly apart from her, letting his breaths come deep and rapid. Victoria steadied herself, her eyes bright as they both stared across at the other, the magnitude of events making them pause momentarily. But then, after only a moment's hesitation to sanctify the moment, she raised a hand and tugged her hair from its fastenings. He studied her intently, yet with that same slight smile he always used when appraising her. When in the past he had averted his eyes and said something to dissipate any brewing tension, he now simply watched her.

It was like a ritual for her, a dismantling of the façade. She pulled and tugged at the braids and coils until her hair was completely loose. Victoria gave her head a shake, enjoying its release and letting it tumble around her shoulders like streams down a mountain.

And then he stepped towards her and, unable to be away from her mouth too long, bent to kiss her again, but tenderly this time, slowly, savouring every morsel of her.

They seemed to kiss for hours, or perhaps it was seconds, but when he brought his hands to the back of her gown to find the hooks, she was barely aware. It was only when she felt the release that she realised what he was doing. Her eyes widened and he drew back briefly as if to question her acceptance, but when she reached for his mouth again he continued. Soon the fastenings were undone and her world was turning as it should, as she wanted it. This was what she was made for, this was what she had dreamed.

Carefully but deliberately, he pushed the gown from her. It tumbled in a pool of azure silk to her feet and she stepped out of her skirts quickly to stand before him in only her undergarments. He took a moment to look at her, but her patience would not last and, with a stunning boldness, she turned herself around, offering him the laces of her corset.

For a moment he stilled, not, she sensed, due to doubt, but simply to heighten the delicious anticipation which hung around them, coiled and brilliant. Victoria waited, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He was close; she could feel the fall of his warm breath on her exposed neck. And then she felt tugging as he nimbly pulled the laces from their eyes.

Despite the rush of air that came with the release of her corset, her breath was ragged and quick. William remained behind her and ran his fingers slowly up her arms. She closed her eyes and waited, the anticipation agony. She was hot but her skin seemed to be cast with ice. She was cold yet burning up. He lowered his head to the warm, inviting join between her neck and her shoulder and his kisses were once again her life.

When at last he turned her around to him, he tugged off his waistcoat and let it fall haphazardly to the floor. And then, through their endless kisses, Victoria was being guided towards the bed.

A sudden tension gripped her, not fear, not doubt, but a realisation that she was here, in a man's bedroom. Here, she was not Queen, but woman. He must have felt her tense as he drew back and searched her face, his beautiful eyes casting over her for a sign of consent.

She smiled and reached up to kiss him again, and, with need making her bold, felt for his shirt and tugged it up. It was his turn to be surprised, but she merely gave him a smirk and he acquiesced, raising his arms and letting her pull it off.

At the first sight of his naked chest, that sensation inside pranced madly. He was slim yet broad, and the muscles flexed as he took the shirt from her to cast it aside. His chest, dusted with dark hairs, rose and fell before her, seemingly demanding her touch. Gently, he took hold of her for another kiss and moved her so that she lay back upon his bed, and then he was slipping down her body, running his hands over all of her. She could feel each burning touch of him through her thin chemise.

William moved further down and her teeth bit unbidden into her bottom lip. He glanced up and met her gaze, and his eyes were alight as never before. He gave her another smile, slight but with more intent this time, and it made her belly leap. Her teeth were digging into her lip so hard she feared they would draw blood.

He made light work of ridding her of her shoes, then focused on her stockings, grazing his hands up her legs before slowly unrolling each one in turn. His newly revealed sensuality staggered her. She was concealed from him now only by her drawers and chemise, but still no shame came, no regret.

William moved over her again and gazed down at her body with a look of such devotion that her heart sang. After guiding her to sit up, he took hold of her chemise and lifted it smoothly off, leaving her breasts exposed to the expectant stillness.

She sat there, hair tumbling wild, her nakedness heaving under his gaze. But as he looked at her she saw his eyes bright with dampness.

'You are utterly beautiful,' he said, the slightest catch in his voice. And then he was kissing her again and guiding her back. She was aware of his hands on her drawers, and without hesitation she lifted her hips and let him remove them. But still he kissed her and for a moment she forgot that she was now entirely naked.

Again, he began to move down over her body, nuzzling along her collarbone. His hands explored her nakedness and every part he touched became inflamed, as if crying out for more. She arched up into him as he reached her breasts. Those he kissed too, soft, searching kisses. Her eyes darted open at this new sensation but she held him there without question. Victoria watched, hypnotised almost, as he found a nipple and closed his mouth around it.

She sucked in a gasp. Was such a thing possible? Oh, but it was wonderful and glorious and good. A jolt of ecstatic feeling rushed through her and she craved more. She coiled her fingers through the dark thickness of his hair and luxuriated in the newness and wonder of it all.

William stayed at her breasts for some time, drawing each nipple in turn to a hard little peak of perfect sensation. And then, as he continued to lick and suck on her, she grew aware that his hand had found its way between her legs. And instead of alarm, there came only deep certainty. His fingers worked their way up her inner thighs to that place where her desire was focused, where her longing throbbed and writhed, urging him closer and nearer, sure of it.

At last he relinquished his hold on her breasts and raised himself slightly to look at her. She held his gaze, but for the first time felt her cheeks reddening with the intimacy of it. His lips pursed briefly, almost to tease, and then she felt it. There. Touch.

She drew in a gasping breath but her body instinctively sought more. She was rewarded when he moved his fingers skilfully and assertively, right into the intimate heart of her.

A little moan of surprised pleasure escaped her, but he merely hushed a settling 'Shh' and continued, circling, stroking, enticing that little bud which she had long suspected was the secret to happiness. She had touched it at times – by mistake rather than deliberation – and the strange and unknown feelings made her ashamed and she would stop. Now, no shame came, only conviction. She stroked his arm, affirming her acceptance. He smiled softly, the same smile he would give when she commented wryly on a sticky piece of Tory rhetoric.

His fingers worked perfectly, slow then quick, circling and teasing. All the while he leaned close to her, not breaking his gaze. How often had she longed for his touch? How often had she dreamed of this? Now that it was upon her it was more perfect than she had even imagined.

His fingers glided through her slickness. He had done that; he had drawn the most profound desire from her. He rested along her and their bodies instinctively pressed together, demanding closeness.

That ball of tension, that knot of longing was building now, both growing and tightening, uncoiling and spinning. What was happening to her? Her breath caught and her eyes widened. The sensations were so extraordinary as to be terrifying, but with him she would never fear. With him, all was right and good, and so she moaned out her joy and gave herself to him, arching her back for more of his touch. His mouth curled up at her reaction but he did not slow and his eyes did not leave hers.

Now he was in control, now he was her sovereign. Her breath came in short little pants and that twisting turning inside was unbearable. His smile, almost wicked in its intent, deepened.

Victoria gripped his arm with claw-like ferocity and stared unblinkingly into him in delirious confusion. With that he worked ever harder, rubbing and circling with focused potency. It was as if he were lifting her, crafting her … and then …

She broke, but was instantly rebuilt. She shattered but was formed. Her body melted, soared, and she cried out, a sharp, bewildered cry of discovered abandon.

His fingers didn't slow and it carried on, that release from her own self, grounded only by him. When at last the feelings ended, lifting from her body like a thousand butterflies taking flight, she found his gaze again. He was looking at her with satisfied wonder. She needed his kiss and lifted her head for it. He kissed her deep and slow, and intense satisfaction seeped through her like molten rock.

When at last they broke the kiss, he asked softly, 'Are you alright?'

She could only nod. Her eyes were hot and wet and, when she blinked, a single tear was forced from the corner of one. He kissed the wetness away.

'I didn't know …' she murmured. 'I didn't know I could feel that way.'

'If all is right between two people, that is the only way it can be.'

'Can I feel that again?'

'Yes.'

'Can … you feel that?'

He smiled and blinked twice before answering. 'Yes.'

'Did you feel it then?'

'No, but … we haven't finished yet.'

'Do we … do you … now?'

His face grew beautifully concerned again. 'If that is what you want.'

She nodded and pulled him down for another kiss, opening his mouth with hers and slipping her tongue in to give him all she was. Her ardour fed into him and he groaned into her mouth and took hold of her head in his hands, returning the kiss with nearly brutal passion. 'Yes, yes,' she slurred when they broke away. 'I want it with all I am.'

She felt a shift in him, a sudden and unstoppable force. His kisses were now possessive, hot and open, and his body's heated strength thrilled her as never before. She could feel something pressing hard against her thighs, as if seeking her out. She moved her leg along it and he moaned through his devouring kisses, deep and ready, 'Victoria …'

'Please, please,' she whined and found herself reaching down to help him out of his breeches. He did not hesitate and together they pushed them off.

She saw it but she was not shocked. It was perfectly, beautifully him and it was right. It seemed to have a mind of its own, standing so large and proud and clearly intent on its course, and she wanted it for herself. She clasped him to her, gripping onto his smooth, firm back, and felt the urgency of his manhood between them.

He guided her legs open, glanced down and positioned himself carefully. Then he locked eyes with her again and whispered, 'Now?'

She nodded, 'Now,' wanting beyond want.

He pushed forward and pressed into her. Her eyes widened and her soul surged. Again he pushed, harder this time, with a low grunt. She felt resistance but he did not stop and pushed through again. There was a sharp pain but she took it and adored it. He pushed again, again, and then he was in: deep, hard, filling her. Another groan rose from him and she loved that sound so much she moved her body to hear it again.

'Are you hurt?' he panted, restraining himself from further movement.

'Barely. You are inside me, that is all.' He kissed her again and flexed within her and she wanted more. 'Move in me, please, move in me.'

He gave the briefest smile before withdrawing slowly and sucking in a breath as pleasure caught him.

It panged a little as he pulled out, not only with the pain, but with the loss of him. But before he could fall from her, he pushed forward again, powerfully this time, entering her in one thrust, then again pulling back before surging into her. She gasped this time with sheer joy. She could feel every inch of him, every thick, hard part of his love for her. He built up a steady rhythm, moving through her wet warmth, taking her, teaching her. And now, deep inside, she felt those same sensations as before, brewing, stirring, pleasure rising up to take her hostage again. She clung to him and met each of his strokes, tightening around him as if she would keep him within her forever.

He let out another of those delicious groans and his eyes closed. She looked up at him as he worked inside her. His face had lost its usual expression of careful control and was now utterly open and human. Never had he been more beautiful. His mouth was relaxed to pull in fevered breaths and his brows furrowed in concentration. When he opened his eyes, he immediately met hers and she smiled up at him in wonder. 'Is that nice?' she dared ask, enthralled at what she was doing to him, wanting to hear the confirmation.

'It is heaven. You are my heaven,' he murmured before another moan took his words and his body tightened amidst rising pleasure.

'It is my heaven too. It feels glorious, it feels right. Tell me,' she implored, still clenching on him and watching his every reaction. 'I want to know.'

He stared down, his breath ragged. 'Tight, so tight and warm and … home.'

'Yes, yes, my darling. You are home.' Her tears came freely now. He began to move faster, almost desperately. He buried his head at her neck and brought his hands under her, cupping her backside. She thrilled to this and drew her legs up around him. He groaned, but this new position made the pleasure inside surge. Still he moved, and she wanted that sensation again: to feel it with him inside her would be her greatest achievement.

He moved faster, harder, deeper if possible, every thrust forward accompanied by that gorgeous moan, and with that it broke in her, harder this time even than before. She released her pleasure with another wild cry, and felt her body pulsing on him.

And he was there, feeling what she was feeling, pouring himself into her. His body tensed on her, his fingers dug hard into her rump, and his deliriously prolonged groan was barely muffled against her skin.

At length, their bodies came down, still joined, still entwined. He lay upon her panting, hot and heavy, and she held him to her, stroking her fingers with slow, new found sensuality along his back.

After some time, he lifted himself up gently and looked down, his brows knitted in tenderness. 'Are you well?'

She nodded through her tears. 'Never so well. Are you?'

He smiled and let out a slight laugh before kissing her with sweet adoration and whispering, 'I am happiness.'

She held him against her again, one hand splayed on his back, the other tangled in his hair, which was now deliciously ruffled and disarrayed. She could still feel him inside her, large and warm.

'Can you stay within me forever? I do not wish you to leave.'

He smirked. 'Neither do I wish to leave. Does it not hurt?'

'I suppose, a little. I cannot call it pain for there is too much wonder.'

'You came again?'

'What?'

He laughed softly. 'I am sorry. It is an expression. You … felt that again, as before?'

'Oh yes. More so. With you inside me it was even more extraordinary.'

He ran his fingers up along her side, from her hips to her breasts. 'That is fortunate the first time. The first time for a lady is usually dictated by discomfort.'

'Then you, dear Lord M, have achieved something wonderful.'

'Not I. Us. These things work only if there is complete compatibility.'

She smiled and stroked his face. 'That is us, is it not? It has always been. Complete compatibility.'

He smiled, a gentle smile tinged with sadness, she thought, and kissed her again.

They lay quite still and silent for a time, but after a while he slipped reluctantly from her.

'You will have bled. We should see.'

Tenderly, he pushed her legs apart to study the aftermath of his actions. 'I will cleanse it. Wait a moment.' He rose from the bed and she gazed on his fine body with a smile as he strode across to the jug and basin. 'There is little blood. Perhaps that is why you did not feel too much pain.'

'You are my first, I assure you,' she stressed.

He gave a soft laugh as he poured the water. 'Oh, I am fully aware of that, but sometimes these things can happen through activities, riding for example.'

'I ride a lot.'

'Indeed. You ride with me every day.' He glanced over his shoulder and cocked a teasing eyebrow.

'Is that a pun, Lord M?'

'I aim to amuse, Ma'am.'

'Oh, you amuse me most satisfactorily.'

He smiled deeply, but then it faded a little as he said, 'In all seriousness, that is something to bear in mind on your wedding night. Your husband will be expecting proof of your virginity which you … no longer have. You may have to explain that riding was the culprit.'

'Then I will.' She was determined of that and he returned to her with his perfect smile again etched deeply.

He sat on the bed and, gently, like the most caring nursemaid, cleansed and soothed her. She tried hard to appreciate his actions for what they were, considerate ministrations, but instead the rubbing and stroking stirred those now familiar longings inside her again.

When he'd finished, he returned to the bed and lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, as close as he could be, gazing down at her. They did not speak; there was a profound contentment between them which needed nothing further. Time passed or stopped, neither could tell.

'Do you know when I first fell in love with you?' she asked eventually.

He gave the slightest shake of his head, still not tearing his gaze from her face and coiling a length of her hair around his forefinger.

'When you first walked into the room at Kensington Palace the morning of my uncle's death and kissed my hand.'

He allowed himself a quiet smile before giving a little tut. 'How rude of me, to kiss on a first meeting. One should at least attempt conversation first.'

She giggled with delight and he turned his gaze to follow his fingers, which now traced a line down over her collar bone and through the valley of her breasts. 'I suppose …' he began.

'You suppose what, my Lord M?'

'I suppose I should also tell you.'

'Tell me what?'

'When I –' He looked back at her and she thought perhaps she would be lost in his eyes. '– first fell in love with you.'

Victoria lost her smile and swallowed in sudden shyness. 'If you wish.'

He gave one of those deliriously slight smiles which entranced her. 'When we danced at the coronation ball.'

She frowned in honest surprise. 'Truly? But I thought …'

'You thought what?'

'I thought I displeased you that evening. I thought you found me flighty and foolish.'

'Perhaps it was right that you thought that … but I did not, or if I did, your flighty foolishness only served to intoxicate me as much as the champagne you drank intoxicated you.'

The deepest happiness melted through her at this and she brought her hand up to stroke his hair while his fingers circled her belly button in an endless spiral which seemed to fascinate him.

'So I intoxicate you, Lord M?'

'You know you do.'

'Then you wear your drunkenness very well. I suspected little, although I hoped greatly.'

His assured, warm hands were now curling around her waist and pulling her closer to him. He lowered his head to kiss her again, deeper than ever and with a powerful determination that made her dizzy. She was struck by his sudden show of strength and she adored it. Victoria clung to him, running her hands along the firmness of his back and feeling that need inside assert itself again.

'Can we …?' she slurred when he broke away to kiss her exposed neck.

'What?' he asked, the word muffled against her skin.

'Can we do it again?'

He barely broke away from his kisses. 'You are not sore?'

She shook her head, desperate. 'I miss you.'

He raised his head and cocked a teasing eyebrow. 'I am not far away.'

'No … I miss you … inside me.'

His smirk deepened with intent. 'In that case … Ma'am … we should remedy the situation.'

* * *

 **And he will. One more chapter. Show this story some love (or otherwise) if you're so inclined. Thank you. LL x**


	3. Chapter 3

**The last chapter. Enjoy. LL x**

* * *

Considering what they were doing, his calling her Ma'am – so paradoxical under the circumstances – thrilled her. He coiled his arms around her and held her tight to him so that she could feel his desire hard and long between them. William turned onto his back and moved so that she lay atop him.

'Let us try this. Sit up, astride me.'

She was not used to being dictated to by him, but his dominance only made her crave him more. She ached, actually ached with desire. William had a look of determination that made his eyes brighter than ever. She was heady with lust yet his expression brought out a shyness in her that was unfamiliar. 'I … don't understand …' she murmured.

'Here.' With that he took hold of her hips and lifted her in strong arms so that she was held poised above the searching head of his manhood. 'Kneel. Brace yourself on me and then … sink down.'

'So that … you …?'

'Yes.'

Her breath came so fast she wondered if she could steady herself, but she leaned forward while kneeling over him and placed her hands on the firm rise of his chest. He locked eyes with her briefly and she saw a wicked smirk pass across his face before he turned his attention back to where he was poised to enter her. 'Now … down.'

Guided by his hands on her hips, she sank down and felt him entering her again. He sucked in a breath as soon as he began to be encased in her but his hands suddenly tightened on her hips and she was prevented from descending further. 'Slowly,' he warned.

His manner remained assertive, dictatorial almost. She had heard that tone once or twice when he had defended his political motives or asserted his position as her minister, but hearing him speak like it in these circumstances enthralled her nearly as much as the feel of him stretching her. She exhaled deeply, let her arms take her weight, met her gaze with his and started to move down again, but so slowly this time he would know her compliance.

Down, down she sank until she could go no further and she sat across his hips, encompassing him fully within her. And it was more glorious than ever. She was fixed to the rock steady hardness of him. Victoria settled herself, drawing from him an intake of pleasured breath.

'You are sure it does not hurt?' he asked, his voice muddied with lust.

Her eyes closed, focused only on the stretching fullness of him inside her. She managed to shake her head to refute his concern; this was what completeness meant. This was what she must strive for. She tore her eyes open to lock with his, giving him a lop-sided grin of lazy pleasure.

'Do you like that?' he asked, pushing up a little to reinforce himself within her.

She nodded again.

'Good. Now,' he continued, 'ride me.'

If she was surprised at his abruptly course words, the shock lasted only a mere moment before it was replaced by eagerness. She liked being spoken to with such authority, she knew that, at least by him.

She started to push herself up, as slowly as she could, and watched him carefully, noting every change in his expression. He had a look of concentrated pleasure on his face but kept his eyes fixed on where they were joined. She bit her lip and leaned forward as she rose, then back, finding she could control her own pleasure easily this way. It felt wonderful when she leaned forward and rose up, and it felt even more wonderful to lean back and push him against some glorious place deep inside her.

When she had steadied into a rhythm he let go of her hips and instead cupped her breasts and with his thumbs stroked and flicked the nipples. She inhaled sharply as little sparks of sensation darted from them to combine with the throbbing glow deep inside.

'I like that … I like that,' she murmured, eyes closed to concentrate.

'I like it too … Ma'am.'

She laughed and clasped one of his hands harder to her breast. He obliged by pinching a nipple with remarkable tightness. Her eyes flew open and she gasped but the sudden pang of pain seemed only to translate as more pleasure.

'I … Oh! … The things you do to me, Lord M!'

'An improvement on perusing the dispatch boxes, Ma'am?'

'You are a wicked man!'

'In this instance, I shall take that as a compliment.'

'Please do.' She rolled and bucked on him, her eyes closed in a daze, drifting to some high pleasure plain.

And then, more. His hands had left her breasts and she felt instead something nudging at that tender place between her legs. He had reached down and was rubbing in time with her movement. Their eyes met briefly and he smiled knowingly before concentrating back on his task.

She maintained the fluid rhythm. Her eyes closed again and she simply focused on enjoying this new and extraordinary activity. How had she not known this could be? She cursed herself for waiting so long.

After a while, she heard him chuckle. She looked down. He was staring up at her, his own eyes glazed. 'You are a natural,' he smirked.

She smiled in satisfaction, grinding herself against him and causing him to groan. 'You make it so easy, Lord M.'

'Well, as I always tell you, Ma'am … I am here to serve you,' he moaned through gritted teeth as they worked each other faster.

Victoria threw her head back and laughed in delight, and with that she heard him catch his breath. His fingers gripped her hips so hard she'd bruise, but it only spurred her on. She rose and fell fast now and watched as his eyes widened, staring blankly for a moment, and his mouth hung slack. And then, with a sound propelled from his very core, he closed his eyes and groaned as he released high up into her. Never had she realised men could switch from control to helplessness in an instant, and all due to her. It gave her more sense of empowerment than she ever had as Queen. And with the sound of his rapture echoing in her ears, her own pleasure broke. It washed over her in wave after wave and her exhaled cry rose from her shuddering body. She was grateful to be joined to him for she would have collapsed otherwise.

When every ounce of rapture had left their bodies, she collapsed over him and let her hair fall across his body. He lifted a pleasure-heavy arm and brought it across her back, pinning her to him. Their damp bodies heaved together in tune with the other.

In time, it was her turn to roll off him. She laid her head upon his chest and let her fingers trace a path over the slender firmness of his belly.

'You are quite the revelation, Ma'am.'

'I was always a fast learner.'

'Oh, I know it.'

She considered drifting off to sleep while lying on him – it would be the most perfect happiness – but then realised that time ticked ever on and morning approached, but they rested for a time in silent communion.

'I do not want this to end.'

He did not reply.

'Did you know that my ancestor Charles II had at least fifteen mistresses?'

He cocked a dispassionate eyebrow. 'Could he remember all their names?'

'My forebears are not renowned for their morally upstanding behaviour.'

'Your point being, Ma'am?' They may as well have been back in the state rooms during private counsel, such was his tone. She rather liked the familiarity of it.

'Would it be regarded differently if I behaved similarly?'

She felt his breath catch as she rested on him. He stroked a single finger along her arm and said plainly, 'It would.'

'But why? I am the monarch. Other monarchs have taken lovers whenever they choose, why not me?'

'Because … you are a woman.'

'And why should that mean anything different?'

'I do not know. It should not, perhaps … but it does. Why are you raising this?'

She hesitated and eased her fingers through the soft hairs of his chest. 'Perhaps I wish to take a lover after I marry?'

'I would not recommend it, Ma'am.'

She lifted her head to look at him. 'Perhaps I wish to keep you as my lover.'

'Keep me?'

'Will you not be kept, Lord M?'

A fleeting smile passed across his lips. 'You know I will not.'

'Why not?'

He stroked her face. 'I believe … you will be more than adequately provided for by your husband.'

'In the ways that you are providing for me tonight?'

'Yes.'

'I doubt anything can be as glorious as tonight.'

He studied her with clear adoration then continued, 'I am not claiming these sensations, but revealing them. I do not profess to owning you, Victoria.'

'And yet I wish you did. You know that if you had said yes that day I came here, there would be no Albert.'

He smiled and let her reach up to kiss him briefly. When they parted he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and said softly, 'But there is.'

She felt a stinging in her eyes and blinked it away. 'I have forgotten him tonight.'

He continued gently, 'But tomorrow you will remember him. And in three weeks' time you will marry him.'

'But what of three months' time? Three years? What then?'

He studied her seriously but said nothing.

'I cannot forget you. I will not forget you,' she stressed.

'I know. I do not ask you to forget me … but you will learn to no longer need me.'

She gazed at him intensely for a time and then said quite plainly, 'And what of you, Lord M?'

'Me?'

'Will you learn … not to need me?'

He smiled gently at her perception and cupped her face, stroking it with aching tenderness. For a while they merely stared into each other, but at length he said, 'No. But I will live with it.'

She lowered her head to kiss him again and he kissed her back with growing passion, rolling her onto her back and moving over her.

'Make love to me again,' she asked.

He pulled back with a smirk. 'You are most demanding, Your Majesty.'

She giggled but held him to her with her left hand while with her right she reached boldly down between his legs. 'Do I ask too much, Lord M?' She felt him stiffening in her hand and thrilled to it.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed back his pleasure. 'Oh … I am sure I can rise to the occasion.'

At his pun, her laughter rippled out of her. The seriousness of their conversation was replaced by light-hearted teasing, and both knew it had to be, for time was too precious. She continued to stroke him, feeling the leaking of his desire onto her thumb. What a curious thing it was, the sexual act and its prequels, but one that she had quickly decided she would embrace wholeheartedly.

He sucked in a breath and his face creased a little. 'Do I please you, Lord M?' she asked with kittenish glee.

His mouth lifted in a smile but his eyes remained closed as he concentrated on what her hand was doing to him. 'Greatly … and you know it.' She continued to ply him to full hardness, her belly twisting in anticipation of welcoming him into her again. 'Your husband will be a most fortunate man,' he murmured.

'But tonight … that man is you. They always did call me Mrs Melbourne, you know. You may be a most fortunate man, but I too am a most fortunate lady.'

She opened her legs for him and urged him forward. He obliged instantly, positioning himself and thrusting up hard into her in one swift stroke. Her back buckled with the force of it and a gasp was pulled from her. 'Again,' she demanded, loving the power of him. He pulled back then drove in to the hilt again in one.

She moaned with pleasure as once again she was completed by him. He moved urgently to assert his placement inside her.

She worked with him, clenching upon him, meeting his strokes, building their mutual pleasure. She murmured against his ear as he rocked powerfully through her. 'I want to keep you inside me. I want to carry you around inside me wherever I go … Can I do that? … Can I carry you within me always?'

He didn't respond but continued moving within her, inhabiting her flesh with his flesh, deep and hard and long.

Would it be this way with her husband? She hoped it would, but no one could take away the confirmation that with this man – her advisor, her friend, her confidante, her lover – she had found something so right, so harmonious, that she barely even needed to speak to him for him to read her and know her, and she him, mind and body.

He moved within her and she felt it. She shifted under him and he knew. She sighed and he groaned. He pressed in and she met him.

 _Mind and body and soul._

'I love you,' she whispered to him as she tangled her fingers through his hair and felt the warmth of his scalp under them. 'I will never stop loving you.'

'And I love you … I love you, I love you …' With that he was coming with a heaving cry, his body gripped with consuming pleasure as his seed spilled deep inside her. She took it and used it and was tipped from the edge, her own rapture billowing from her to combine with his which still hung thick about them.

And as their pleasure dissipated to linger as understanding, both knew that it was a right and good thing that they had done. Neither would regret.

And now they drifted, limbs still entwined, as dawn started its relentless encroachment. They lay skewed on the bed, joined as long as they could, their arms and legs tangled. An artist drawing them would have been unable to distinguish one body from the other.

But it inevitably, evilly, grew lighter.

Victoria heard birds. She ignored them at first, but something had shifted, something had to shift. And so she said, 'I would love to say that was the nightingale and not the …'

She turned her head to his and he completed her sentence through the shadow of a sad smile, 'Rook …'

She clung to him and he held her so tight she wondered if she would break, but she did not mind.

'You must leave now,' he said, but still neither moved.

'I am not sure I can.'

'And I am not sure I can let you go … but I will.'

She turned her head up and murmured, 'William.' He kissed her again and in that exchange of souls was a farewell.

Victoria smiled tenderly up at him. 'I will go now.'

He nodded once, his eyes bright with dampness. She moved from him, each limb sliding and disengaging from his, each parting touch etched forever between them.

He stared after her as she left his bed. 'You will need my carriage.'

'No. Lady Portman's is returning at 6 o'clock.'

He glanced at the clock. 'That is in a few minutes only.'

'Yes.'

'You had arranged this?'

'You always taught me to use foresight and initiative, Lord M,' she smiled as she stepped into her underwear. He rose from the bed and helped her with her corset. It took some time.

'How does one manage?' he queried, his fingers making heavy work of the intricate lacings.

'A lady's maid.'

'And without one?'

Her brows furrowed in bewilderment. 'Why ever would one not have a lady's maid?' She didn't see his wry smirk as he stood behind and continued to lace her up.

He helped her with the rest of her clothes. She had not noticed that he was still entirely naked, or, at least, their complete contentment together had led her not to question it. But once she was dressed she wished he would put some clothes on. His fine figure was distraction enough when fully clothed. If she were to be reminded of what that body had done to her during the night, she would find it nigh on impossible to leave.

'My bonnet and veil is downstairs. I suppose I should replace it before leaving.'

'That would be wise, Ma'am.'

'No more 'Victoria'?'

The corner of his mouth tugged up. 'I like calling you Ma'am.'

'Even in light of what has happened?'

'Especially in light of what has happened.'

'Very well … Lord M. Go and retrieve my bonnet and cloak.' She quirked an eyebrow. 'You may wish to put some clothes on first,' she teased with a sweeping look over his nakedness.

He grinned before reaching for a robe and throwing it on. He wore it with insouciant ease. His every movement, intensified as it was within the intimate space of his bedchamber, still beguiled her.

William left to get her bonnet and cloak. Victoria inhaled sharply, immediately feeling his absence. She glanced around the room, having barely been aware of her surroundings until now.

It was sparsely decorated compared to the rest of the house, although the walls contained a few paintings of seascapes. There was a bureau to one side on which were scattered some papers. A small portrait of a small boy rested in one corner of it. She supposed it was his son.

When William returned she smiled shyly at him, her cheeks flushed as if she had intruded on something intensely private.

But he approached her and placed her cloak around her shoulders before putting her bonnet on her head.

'There,' he said softly when he had tied the bow beneath her chin. He indicated the veil. 'To the outside world, you were never here.'

'And to you?'

'To me?' He smiled softly. 'You will never leave.'

She reached out her hands and he took them, stroking over them with his thumbs. 'Dear Lord M. Darling William. Dearest, darling, darling.'

He bent down and planted the slightest, most chaste kiss on her lips, but there was such devotion in it that it would last them forever.

He murmured, 'Thank you … my love.'

And she withdrew her hands, brought the veil over her face, and left Brocket Hall.

* * *

 **Dear Lord M.**

 **Love.**

 **Thoughts, if you wish, thank you.**

 **LL x**


End file.
